Back On Your Feet
by weasleyisourking934
Summary: A seemingly simple hunt goes badly wrong when Dean is injured protecting his baby brother. But in the middle of the woods, miles from any other help, it's only Sammy who can get him out alive.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, this is my first real attempt at a multi-chapter fic, so I'm just publishing the first part for now. It'd be great to hear what you think, whether you like it so far, and any tips would be greatly appreciated. So please review!**

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"Dude, come on, quit screwing around," moaned Sam half-heartedly, his attempts to pick his way delicately through the undergrowth failing due to his large feet.

Dean's eyes glinted as he smirked cheekily at his younger brother.

"Well ain't you a little ray of sunshine?" chuckled Dean, leaping over a fallen log, "What's got your knickers in a twist, huh, Sammy?"

"It's SAM and what are you so happy about? It's just another hunt," grumbled Sam, keeping his lanky frame hunched in order to avoid scraping his face on the low-hanging branches.

Dean rolled his eyes dramatically and spun round to face his brother, still walking backwards through the trees.

"Just another hunt?" repeated Dean, "You getting light-headed from the lack of oxygen up there, Sasquatch? It's a werewolf, man! What part of civilian by day, half-wolf killing machine by night don't you get? Werewolves are badass. And we haven't seen one since we were kids!"

Sam sighed and raised an eyebrow; torn between frustration and amusement as he watched Dean swing comically on the bow of an oak tree.

'Yeah, and not much has changed since then,' he thought.

Ordinarily, Sam would have been eager for another hunt to sink his teeth into, but the trail to their father was getting colder and colder each day. The series of coordinates had stopped and there was no sign of them finding him any time soon. After a couple of heated arguments, Sam had eventually persuaded Dean to start trying to pin their Dad's location by talking to his friends, people he'd helped and even checking his GPS- though they knew he'd never have it on. But when Dean caught wind of the gruesome attacks up in Washington, there was no stopping him. Anything with the power to tear a grown man in half, Dean wanted a piece of. Still, Sam would let Dean have his fun; he'd been off since the reaper in Nebraska and needed to get back into the swing of things. And if that meant letting him hunt down a werewolf then so be it.

Sam was torn from his inner monologue by the thump of his brother falling from several feet up a pine tree. He bounced back up, shaking the leaves from his shirt- his dignity hurt more than anything else, but still grinning.

"Just be careful, man, with the noise you're making we won't have to track anything, the damn thing'll head straight for us."

"No foreplay. My kind of hunt."

"Dean-" Sam began.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it Sammy," he cut in, clapping his brother on the back and speeding ahead, "Now quit moaning and keep a look out. If you get bit, I ain't dragging your werewolf ass home."

Sam gave a small smile and quietly followed his brother through the trees. It was just getting dark now and a slither of the full moon was just visible behind a thin grey mist of fog in the sky. A couple of minutes of silence passed before-

"Wait," whispered Dean, urgently; throwing his arm out against Sam's chest to stop him going any further, "You hear that?"

Sam froze.

There was a soft rustling noise just to the left of them. The two brothers trained their eyes through the trees.

Silence.

The air was still apart from Sam and Dean's slightly quickened breath forming in smoky tendrils in the cool air.

"Come on," breathed Dean, heading towards the source of the noise.

They were heading deeper onto the trees now, and Sam doubted they would be able to find their way back to the Impala. He was just about to point this out when Dean whipped round.

Sam turned his head.

The scene froze.

Back arched, crouched ready to spring, jaws inches from Sam's neck was the wolf.

The scene unfroze.

"SAM!" yelled Dean, yanking his little brother out of harm's way just as the wolf pounced. Dean was flung ungraciously several feet in the opposite direction, landed with a thud and lay face-down. Motionless. The creature rounded on Sam who was slowly backing away, eyes flickering to his dropped gun a few feet away from where Dean lay in a heap.

And then Sam's back hit a tree. He was cornered. A vicious snarl escaped the wolf's lips as it moved in for the kill. He was helpless to do anything, as the creature reared back with claws ready to strike; Sam braced himself for the feeling of tearing flesh.

"HEY!" The wolf turned. Dean was on his feet, a small trickle of blood easing its way down the side of his face. Gun raised, Dean pulled the trigger and clipped the beast across the shoulder.

In his panic to divert its attention from Sam, Dean had just fired anywhere and wasn't prepared for the beast to round on him in anger, batting him away with one sweep of a paw, Dean grunted as he felt dirty claws puncture his midsection before he was lifted off his feet and found himself hurtling through the air.

The wolf was on him in an instant, digging its claws into soft flesh, and in a flash of steely claws, Dean collapsed, blood blossoming over his shirt. Sam threw himself on the discarded gun and unloaded it into the creature's chest.

With a final piteous howl, the thing morphed back into the body of a pale teenage boy and lay still.

"DEAN!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys, sorry for the wait, school's been really hectic lately. Hopefully I'll be able to upload another chapter this weekend- fingers crossed!**

**Hope you like the next chapter, any criticism is greatly appreciated.**

**REVIEWS ARE LOVE. **

"DEAN!"

Time seemed to slow down as Sam raced towards his brother. Dean hadn't moved.

Leaping over the carcass of the wolf, Sam threw himself at Dean's side. He was curled in a fetal position, facing away from Sam.

"Dean?"

A small groan escaped the older brother as Sam gently rolled him onto his back. A small scarlet puddle was forming at Dean's side, where three long deep gashes had been torn into the soft flesh of his midsection. Dean's face was screwed up in pain, hands clutching his stomach instinctively.

"Dean, let me see," Sam pleaded, attempting to prise his brother's hands off his abdomen.

"Nuh-uh, Sammy. M'good, s'fine," Dean insisted feebly, attempting to hoist himself off the ground with one shaking arm, the other still clamped around his middle, "S'just a scratch." Upon this final half-hearted claim, Dean collapsed again, groaning softly.

"You're not Superman, Dean, I have to look, now let go," Sam pulled his brother's hands away from his side, his own hands shaking as Dean's heart pumped a steady stream of blood over them.

"I could be Superman," Dean mumbled as Sam set to work tearing up strips of his shirt and firmly tying them around Dean's waist.

"Don't think you could pull off the tights, bro," Sam teased, with a forced smile. He would stay calm for his brother. Play along. Keep him talking. Keep him awake. Keep him alive.

"My ass would look great in tights," Dean slurred, his eyes drooping.

"Hey, hey, hey- eyes open, man. Dean? Dean!"

"M'awake, m'good," eyes closing once more.

"Taking a nap really isn't the best idea right now, dude," joked Sam nervously, shaking Dean's shoulder.

"HEY!" Sam slapped Dean's cheek and his eyes flicked back open.

"What's the deal with you, Nurse Ratched?"

"Very funny," replied Sam distractedly. His heart sunk into his stomach. The makeshift bandages were already soaked crimson. Sam ran his hands through his hair. What now? Dean was fading fast, and through all the bravado Sam knew he was in pain. The first aid kit was in the Impala, miles from where they were. He fumbled in his pocket for his phone. No signal. He held it aloft in desperation. Still nothing.

Dean was quietly humming 'The Circle of Life' and Sam snapped his phone shut, staring at him in disbelief. Trust Dean to still be joking when he was practically dancing with a Reaper.

Sam shrugged off his shirt and pressed it securely against Dean's stomach, receiving only a string of expletives for his troubles.

"Quit whining, and hold that in place," Sam muttered.

"You'll catch your death without this, dude,"

"Seriously worrying about me, Dean? You look like a thriller video reject,"

"You're bleeding too,"

"That's yours, genius,"

Sam looked down at his hands, his brothers blood dried in the cracks of his palms and still sickeningly wet on the soft flesh of the rest of his hand.

"You're doing the laundry from now 'till forever, dude," he said, wiping his hands on his jeans.

Dean tried to laugh but it caught in the back of his throat and, to his dismay, turned into a racking cough, spurting blood onto the ground in front of him. He hoped Sam hadn't noticed- the kid didn't need anything else to worry about.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!"

Wishful thinking.

"Any... b-bright... ideas... college boy?" Dean choked out.

"Yeah... course..."replied Sam hesitantly.

"Oh, good. I was... worried there... for a second,"

Should it be this hard to breathe? Not a good sign. Don't tell Sammy. Cover it up. Make a joke.

"Hey... S'mmy, th'sse...two chicks... walk 'nto... bar,"

That didn't sound quite as eloquent as it did in his head. Now Sam looked positively terrified. Not the outcome he wanted.

"Ok. Ok. I can either leave you here and go get help, or I can try and drag your ass along with me?" It sounded more like a question than a statement.

"You're... not...going...by...yourself..."

"Quit worrying about me, Dean! Look at yourself! I'm pretty sure you have more blood on your outside than the inside right about now!"

Sam watched as Dean's focused slipped.

He didn't have long left.

"Right. Ok, c'mon, dude, we're standing up," Sam didn't wait for Dean's approval; immediately tucking his shoulder underneath Dean's armpit and hoisting him off the ground- wincing at the strangled cry of pain that escaped his older brother.

"You ok?"

"Peachy," breathed Dean.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys, sorry about the wait, I am a horrible person for not updating for this long but I come bearing gifts!**

**Another chapter FINALLY ready. I left Dean's life hanging in the balance for way too long, but alas! his suffering is not yet over!**

**REVIEWS ARE LOVE.**

**ENJOY!**

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The walk was slow.

Though shorter than his younger brother, Dean's muscular body dwarfed Sam's lanky frame. In short: Dean was frigging heavy.  
But Sam said nothing.

The hazy memories of himself as a skinny nine year old, clinging to a teenage Dean's shoulders for dear life as he raced unnecessarily fast down a hill, solely for the purpose of hearing him squeal, waded through his brain. Older brothers give the best piggy backs. Of course, generally, most piggy backs don't eventually evolve into fireman's lifts because you've been knocked unconscious by a pissed-off werewolf. Which Dean had had to do more times than Sam would like to admit. At least now he could return the favour. Although he'd prefer not to have to.

Dad had given Dean hell for those five minutes of innocent fun. Training exercises were to be taken seriously. This wasn't some vacation, goddammit. Grumpy bastard. Sam had hidden in quiet shame behind Dean through the entirety of the rant, guilt pulsing through his veins. But as soon as Dad had turned his back, Dean had winked down at him, usual cocky grin back in place, and whispered: "Jesus, you'd think this was life or death training, huh, Sammy?"

He could appreciate the irony in his words now Dean was bleeding out at his side. Well, maybe appreciate wasn't the best word.

Detest.

Loathe.

Despise.

Dean never had a childhood but he made sure as hell Sam got what he never did. Sam smiled in spite of himself.  
Selfless jerk.  
Mentally scolding himself, Sam shook his head- shaking himself out of his reverie and crash landed back to reality. Not the best time to be getting nostalgic when the only sign your brother is alive is the painful, gurgling breath down your ear.

Peering through the mesh of forest undergrowth, Sam realised, with a sinking feeling, he was utterly and hopelessly lost. Sam licked his lips and tried to steady his breathing. His heart was beating almost indecently fast. As if to prove how slow Dean's was. He gulped. It was like trying to swallow a golf ball.

It was eerily quiet.

Something was wrong.

There was no sign of life anywhere.

Including Sam's side.

Dean was silent.

"No, no, no, no, no…" Sam muttered helplessly, dragging his brother to the nearest tree and propping his limp form up as best he could.

His eyes were half closed, only two strips of white visible through his eyelashes. Sam was practically nose to nose with him, close enough to count his freckles. He'd forgotten Dean had freckles. How can you spend so much time with someone and just forget a major detail of their appearance? Lightly tapping Dean's face, Sam grimaced as he smudged, what he initially thought to be a particularly heavy cluster of freckles, but what turned out to be dried blood. Lovely.

Dean's eyelids flickered.

"You'd normally have to buy me dinner before I put out on the first date," Dean mumbled, lazily opening one eye.

Sam let out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

"Don't DO that!" Sam replied, weakly, sitting back on his heels.

"Hey, come on, it's not like its life or death, huh Sammy?" Dean chuckled.

Sam stared at him in amazement. Could they really have been remembering the same crappy training weekend?

'You two really are brothers, aren't you?' Sam recalled the lawyer back in Baltimore saying.  
He was right.  
It was remarkable how they could be so different and yet, still practically the same person.

Lightly punching Dean's arm, Sam reluctantly smiled, "Shut up, jerk,"

"You can't punch an invalid,"

"You're not an invalid, Dean,"

"Yeah? Well, I got a hole in my stomach that says different, bitch,"

"The hole in your stomach needs to stop talking before you bleed out all over the place," Sam replied, his initial joke turning to genuine concern.

"Calm down, Princess, I ain't gonna bleed out. S'just a scratch, man, I've had well worse. Hell! We both have!"

"Doesn't change the fact that we gotta get you outta here before…" Sam trailed off, "And you're not exactly helping my confidence when you go drifting off like that," he finished.

"S'just a power nap, Sammy, now I'm raring to go," he slurred, eyes drooping again.

"Nope," Sam replied, slapping his face, "No sleeping on the job, you lazy ass," not sitting back again until Dean was back to semi-consciousness.

"You can't insult me when I'm on my deathbed,"

"You're not on your deathbed,"

"Yeah, you're right."

Sam looked up from adjusting Dean's blood-soaked bandages as his tone became suddenly and uncharacteristically sincere.

"I am?"

"Yeah. A deathbed would be way more comfortable,"

Sam frowned in confusion.

"This is more like a death-floor," he finished, shoulders shaking as he tried to contain his laughter.

"You're a jerk."

"Bitch."

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**Ok, so I have no idea where to take it from here so if you've got any inspirational ideas, let me know. Always open to criticism (and compliments- always compliments).**

**REVIEW.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Ok. I am a horrible person. I am so sorry I have been so long uploading. Seriously, I don't know why someone hasn't sent people round to my house to kill me. HOPEFULLY next chapter will be up tomorrow. But I still have no clue where this is going so I NEED HELP.**

**Please, enjoy! And REVIEW.**

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Sam knelt next to his brother, positioning his hands carefully as not to disturb Dean's shallow-breathing frame. He grimaced slightly as he picked a thorn from the palm of his hand and then mentally scolded himself.

Really, Sam? Your brother's a bloody mess. Perspective, man.

He leaned forward and gently touched Dean's abdomen. His hand came away scarlet. The makeshift bandages of Sam's over-shirt were doing nothing to staunch the heavy bleeding. He contemplated using his t-shirt, but it was starting to cool down further, and while Sam would do it for his brother in a heartbeat, when he was their only chance of survival, catching hypothermia didn't seem like the smartest option. And walking shirtless through the woods would, no doubt, spark a series of 'Lautner' jokes from his ever-hilarious big brother.

He let out a shaky breath and sat back on his haunches. He trained his eyes through the trees hoping, praying for a sudden realisation of their location. But no such epiphany came. Sam avoided Dean's general direction; in his condition the last thing he needed was to see the panic in Sam's eyes.

But Dean knew better. He had had his gaze firmly locked on his little brother from the start. Watching him desperately trying to think his way out of this mess made his heart ache. He looked like a lost puppy. So helpless. And so _young. _He had to help.

"Sammy?"

Sam was instantly at his side, "Yeah, Dean?"

"We're lost aren't we?"

"Yeah, Dean,"

There was a small pause.

"Crap,"

"Yep,"

Sam collapsed next to Dean and rested his head on the tree. He looked over at his brother.

"Dean, I'm sorry," he said quietly, his head bowed in shame.

Dean's mind was going foggy. Patches of black were seeping into his vision.

"S'ok, Sammy, s'not your fault," he slurred.

"I should have been looking where I was going! If I'd have seen the freaking thing myself, you wouldn't have got in the freaking way and none of this would have happened! It's my fault!"

"Think you're forgettin' who jumped in front of a friggin' werewolf, man,"

"Yeah, well, that was stupid too,"

"S'my job,"

"Being a moron?"

"Lookin' after you,"

"It's a crap job,"

"I had a crappy guidance counsellor,"

Dean's speech was slowing and his words fumbling. Sam looked into his brother's eyes and saw reflected back 22 years of pain and love and sacrifice.

"Well, now it's my job to look after you," he replied, determinedly, jumping to his feet.

Dean watched his brother pace through the trees, venturing a couple of metres into one patch of foliage and then another; never out of eye-line. Dean frowned. What was that noise?

"Sm? S'that noise?"

"What noise?" he replied, distractedly.

"Beepin'"

"Beep-?" Sam stopped dead and span round, eyes wild. He sprinted back to Dean, skidding to the ground and scrambling for his phone. He held his cell aloft and a grin of relief spread across his face.

"Signal!" he cried, "1 bar! 1 bar's good enough for me!" He beamed at Dean how smiled back at his brother's giddiness.

"Winchester luck, Smmy," he grinned, teeth stained red. His head lolled onto his neck and rested on his shoulder.

Winchester luck. Sam scoffed at the irony as he dialled.

"What you doin'?"

"Calling an ambulance!"

"Nu-uh you're not,"

"What?!"

"I ain't goin' no hospital,"

"_You_ have no say in the matter,"

"Ambulance can't come if we don't know where we friggin' are,"

"Then who Dean?! Everyone we know is either dead or disappeared off the face of the earth! Who else is there, huh? Who we gonna call?"

"Ghostbusters?" Dean mumbled, half-heartedly.

Sam ignored him.

"Bobby," he burst out.

"Bobby?"

"He's a friend of Dad's, right?"

"Was,"

"What happened?"

"Dad,"

"Right," It was remarkable how many old friendships had ended because of that. Sam noted how Dean was responding monosyllabically, which was never good.

"Well, we're not Dad,"

Sam dialled the number and held his breath as the phone rang. And rang. And rang.

'Come on, come on," Sam pleaded, his face screwed up in anticipation.

"Hello?" a gruff voice answered.

Sam felt weak with relief.

"Bobby?"

"Who's this?"

"It's uh, Sam Winchester- John's son?"

"_Sam? _Thought you were off at school, kid."

"No, well, yes, but no- it doesn't matter!" he stammered.

"Jesus, son, you ok?" a note of alarm in his voice.

"No! Well, I'm fine. It's- it's-, Bobby, it's Dean," he finished shakily.

"Dean's there too?"

"We were hunting a werewolf up in McEaney Park. Dean's- he's- he's clawed up pretty bad, Bobby. We need your help,"

"Got your coordinates?"

"No," Sam responded helplessly.

"GPS on?"

"Yeah…"

"I'll be there in 20,"

The phone clicked dead.

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**Hope you enjoyed it- please review any criticism you have and ANY IDEAS FOR WHERE I CAN TAKE THIS BECAUSE RIGHT NOW I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS HAPPENING.**

**Thanks!**


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